


No More Distractions

by goingtothetardis



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Emma's red leather jacket, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Inspired by THAT sneak peek, Oral Sex, Spoilers for Season 6 Episode 1
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-22
Updated: 2016-09-22
Packaged: 2018-08-16 17:21:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8110921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goingtothetardis/pseuds/goingtothetardis
Summary: After dealing with the latest drama to befall Storybrooke, Killian and Emma finally make it back to their house and readdress the issue of the red leather jacket.





	

**Author's Note:**

> So yes, I was inspired by the S6 sneak peek released yesterday, with the making out and Killian's red leather jacket kink. This is my first CS smut, so I hope it's at least somewhat decent. ;)
> 
> Unbeta'd.

It’s hours until the latest drama in Storybrooke calms down enough for them to escape back to their house. It’s _their_ house now, of course, the pronoun assigned hastily, without second thought. 

Killian busies himself in the kitchen, preparing some drinks before bed. Emma’s upstairs in the shower, having declared herself too ‘sweaty and gross’ for any evening activities. 

The words had been said with a smirk and an eyebrow raise, and Killian had tried his hardest to convince her that a little dirt and sweat never caused anyone any harm. She’d blushed at this, the carefree smile shining on her face almost enough to destroy his last remaining willpower, to just pull her to him and continue the rather delightful activities they’d begun earlier in the day.

As if she’d known his thoughts, she’d trailed her fingers down over his necklaces, running her fingers over the cool metal of his pendants, before insisting, once again, that she really did need a shower. 

With a wistful sigh, he’d lightly squeezed her bum and sent her on her way. Now, he stares between the kettle and a bottle of rum, not really seeing them, as he thinks about how he really just wants to disappear for a little while with Emma, _alone_ , and–

A noise in the doorway pulls him from his thoughts, and he turns, expecting some manner of trouble. Instead, Emma stands in front of him wearing nothing, save for her red leather jacket. 

His words from earlier trickle through his mind – _“I like the red leather jacket”_ – and with a determined growl, he stalks boldly toward Emma. His heart hammers loudly in his chest, and the very _feeling_ of it, alive and beating and there, almost overwhelms him again. 

Standing in front of her, he takes a moment to gaze upon her body, still slightly flushed from the heat of the shower and, he’s sure, from the arousal he finds in her gaze. Her hair is damp, the long strands hanging limply over the jacket, and her face is washed clean of makeup and sweat. It’s _Emma_ in her most vulnerable, and he cannot wait another moment to press his body into hers. 

He steps forward and lightly traces the edge of her jaw, relishing in the sound of her breath catching at the sensation.

“No Henry,” he says. 

“Nope,” she answers.

His fingers trail down the muscles of her neck and over her collarbone before traveling down the valley between her breasts, and he rests there for a moment, feeling the faint but steady beats of her heart below his fingertips. 

“No meddlesome parents.”

“Definitely not.” 

As he gently – _oh so gently_ – cups her with his one hand beneath the leather jacket, he steps ever closer and presses himself into her body. All the while, they stare at each other, blue eyes into green, and the space between them is thick with intent and anticipation. 

“No bloody flying machine in the sky.” 

“Thank God.”

When she groans and pulls him closer with a firm grip on his hips, he knows she feels him against her, hard and wanting. His hook, now, drifts under her jacket and caresses the edge of the breast he’d neglected. With this added sensation, her hands fall to his buttocks and grip him tightly, closing the (non existent) gap between them even more. 

“Just you, me, and this devastatingly delightful red leather jacket.” These last words are spoken with a smile so wide and so happy he ought to be embarrassed, but at the moment, he can’t be bothered, because her smile is as wide as his own. 

Without words, her head thunks back into the wall behind her and he uses the opportunity to nudge the collar of her jacket away with his nose and place a line of kisses along her collarbone and up her neck to her jaw, reversing the path his fingers traveled moments before. 

She breathes his name on a contented sigh. 

All the while, his hand and hook are not idle, and they dance, a well rehearsed pattern of fingers and steel, down her torso until, shifting his body to allow the movement, his fingers trail delicately through her heat. 

“Gods, Emma, you're so beautiful,” he whispers into her ear before covering her lips with his. As his fingers grow more bold in their journey, they groan together, Emma from the ministrations of his fingers, and him from the sensation of her slick and wanting for him. 

Despite his inclination to stay where they are, he moves suddenly and scoops her up in his arms, walking swiftly to the stairs. 

She lets out a yelp of surprise. “Killian, what–?”

“I will not have you for the first time in the bloody kitchen, Swan.” There’s more he wants to say, should say, but the words die on his lips as he navigates the stairs with the love of his long life in his arms. 

“Fair enough.” In his arms, her jacket bunches up and reveals her natural form to him, and his steps almost falter on the stairs as he gazes upon her body. 

They finally reach the bedroom, and he sits her carefully on the edge of the bed, _their bed_ , one not yet christened by amorous activities. Before kneeling in front of her, he cups her face between his hand and hook, reveling in her touch when she copies his actions. They kiss for several moments, and he’s lost in the sensation of her fingers playing with the ends of his too-long hair. 

With a groan, he pulls himself from her lips and kneels to the floor. He nudges her legs apart and takes in the sight of Emma before him: hair mussed, lips slightly swollen, red leather jacket falling open, and slick folds beckoning him closer. She’s propped on on her hands, watching silently, and nods when he looks to her for permission. He tugs on her legs, and she shifts closer to the edge of the bed. 

Closing his eyes, he leans in and breathes in the scent of Emma. It’s been far too long since he’s pleasured a woman in such a way, and for it to be Emma, the woman he’s loved through hell and back, well– It’s a privilege, and he’s honored to oblige. Opening his eyes, his tongue traces through her folds, tasting _her_ , and he holds her legs steady when her body jerks in reaction.

“Fuck.” Her voice is strangled but not entirely quiet, and the sound of the curse on her lips thrills him, encourages him. 

He grins into her and lifts one leg to his shoulder. She follows with the other leg, and he trails his hook back and forth over the muscle of her thigh. Emma shudders against him when he inserts a finger inside her and calls out a litany of praises for him as he works her with fingers and tongue. 

When she comes – it doesn’t take long at all, much to his delight – it’s on a soft keen of his name. He works her through it, murmuring words of encouragement against her, until she flops back on the bed with a pleased sigh. Killian places a chaste kiss on the crease of her thigh before standing to undress. 

He pauses when she speaks. “God, Killian, that was–”

“Worth the wait? The best you’ve ever had?” 

She knows he’s fishing for a complement and simply smirks at him. “I guess we’ll just have to see, won’t we?” She nods at his state of undress and props herself up on her elbows to see him better.

The clothes – and hook – fall quickly to the floor under Emma’s observant gaze, and when he moves to remove the pendants from around his neck, she raises an arm to stop him. 

“No, don’t. I like them.”


End file.
